Am I a stone, and not a sheep, 
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross, 
To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss, 
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved 
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee; 
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly; 
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon 
Which hid their faces in a starless sky, 
A horror of great darkness at broad noon-- 
I, only I.

Yet give not o'er, 
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock; 
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more 
And smite a rock. 

Added: on April 23rd, 2006 at 12:29 AM | Viewed: 1043 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Christina Rossetti
Poem: Beneath Thy Cross

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